When Puck Fell
by teddyshoney
Summary: When Quinn breaks Noah's heart, Noah can't cope anymore. He slowly starts to lose control of his life, so the Hummels and the Anderson-Hummels take matters into their own hands. WARNING: This is an age play story and may contain spanking or mentions of spanking. Also, warning for a bit of non-con as they begin their journey. Noah is mostly too drunk to care.
1. Chapter 1

It was somewhere between Finn's death and his breakup with Quinn, again, that Noah started to lose it. Finn's death changed him, made him more aware of his love for Quinn, for Beth, and for life. And after Quinn went back to school, even though it was hard, they were happy together. Noah would send her cute texts everyday, Quinn would call him for hours each evening, and they would see one another in the flesh almost once a month.

The first time Quinn had to cancel a meet up, it was hard on Noah, but he understood. Finals were the next week, and she needed to study. It was her senior year. That was fine. Then, she got a summer job, and the phone calls basically stopped. Not all at once, but within the first month.

That's when Noah started drinking. A cold one with dinner and something stronger to help him fall asleep at night, to relax after cleaning pools all day. Then, he added in one or two over his lunch break. Eventually, that turned into a stiff drink with breakfast, too. He still texted Quinn all the time, but she barely responded; most of the time when he called her, she ignored his calls. If she did answer, they talked for only a minute or two. At that point, Noah was barely functioning on his own; some days he didn't work at all. He was losing pools left and right.

A change was set in motion the day he showed up at Burt and Carole's at 10am, yelling gibberish at the top of his lungs. He stumbled down their sidewalk, barely managing to stay on his feet.

Carole came running out the front door, frantically wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Noah?"

"Hi, Miss H," Noah slurred as he pulled her into a hug, leaning heavily against her.

"Noah, are you okay?" Carole asked. She could smell the booze on him as if it were leaking from his pores.

"I'm grrrrrrreat. Nooooooot really. Quinn won't...And I lost anoooooother pool today. Only have one," he said sticking his right index finger into the air in front of Carole's nose, swaying dangerously.

"Oh, dear. That sounds awful," Carole sympathized as she wrapped an arm around Noah's waist, leading him toward the house. "Why don't you come inside and sit a while so we can chat. We'll get you some water and a PB and J. Sound good?"

"Suuuure thing, Miss H," Noah replied lazily, leaning too hard on her for a moment, making her stumble.

Carole led him to the living room, getting him settled on the couch. "You stay here, Noah. I'll be right back with the sandwich and some water."

As she turned to go, Noah said, "Yer the best, Miss H. Finn has the best mooooom."He pointed at her with a heavy hand before letting it fall, hard, against his thighs.

Though his referral to Finn in the present tense made her want to tear up, Carole threw Noah a half-hearted smile. "Thank you, sweetheart. I'll be right back," she assured him again. Quickly, she grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and threw together a sandwich, keeping her ears alert for any distressed sound that Noah might make.

He was mysteriously quiet, and when she returned to the living room, she discovered why. Noah was fast asleep on the couch, head pillowed on the sofa's arm.

Carole took the opportunity to really study him, then. He looked terrible, she decided with dismay. He had huge, dark bags beneath his eyes, at least a weeks worth of scruff on his dirty face, and his clothes looked and smelled like they hadn't been clean in at least that long. The sight of him nearly broke her heart. She remembered what a handsome boy he'd always been, eager to please and cute as a button.

Carole had been looking out for him for a long time. Noah and Finn had been friends since preschool, and due to his dead-beat father, Noah's mother was always at work, trying to make ends meet. So, Carole looked after him as best she could. After he and Quinn had gotten back together, she'd thought he'd finally found someone who would love him like he deserved. Quinn had seemed like she really cared about him. Obviously, she had been wrong.

Carole was not surprised at all that Noah had ended up at her house. She'd known about the "break up," however unofficial it was, for a while now. She'd watched from afar as Noah's life had started to fall apart, feeling sorry that there was nothing she could do for him until he came to her. She couldn't force her help on him like she could when he was a child; he was legally an adult, and he'd been in the military. After seeing how quickly Noah was falling into an unhealthy state, though, Carole had worked with Burt, Blaine, and Kurt to come up with a plan for when his meltdown eventually became too much for him to handle alone. It was clear to Carole that they had reached that point now.

Lovingly, Carole pulled Noah's shoes off his feet and threw a light blanket over his sleeping form. She set the plate and water bottle down on the coffee table for later, then went back to the kitchen. She picked up her cell from the counter and dialed. Burt picked up on the third ring.

"It's happened," Carole said, leaning against the counter and swiping the back of her free hand across her forehead.

"Have you called the boys?" Burt asked, already signaling to his coworkers that that he was leaving.

"Not yet," Carole sighed. "I thought I should tell you first. Just so you could go get his stuff." She took a shaky breath. "He looks awful, Burt."

"Don't worry, Carole. We've got it under control." Burt wished he could be there to comfort her. He knew how much distress it caused her to see someone she cared about doing poorly. "I'm leaving work right now," he told her, climbing into his truck and slamming the door shut. "I'll run by his place and pick up a few things. Call the boys. Let them know."

Carole was so thankful for Burt's calm demeanor. She swore the man rarely got his feathers ruffled, unless someone was threatening his kids. "Thank you, Burt," Carole said softly, her voice betraying her emotions.

"It's gonna be okay, Carole. We've got a plan. Noah's going to be just fine."

Carole smiled even though he couldn't see it. "Okay. I'll call Kurt and Blaine."

"Okay. I'll be home soon. I love you."

"Love you, too." She clicked the end button and took a deep breath to calm herself. Burt said everything was going to be okay, and she believed him. She went back to her contacts list and selected Kurt's name from the list.

Kurt was just sitting down with a bowl of popcorn and his husband when his phone began to buzz on the coffee table in front of him.

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Who is it?" His finger was poised to hit play on their favorite Netflix show.

"It's Carole. I better take it." Kurt swiped to answer the call, then put the phone to his ear. "Hey, Carole." His brow furrowed as he listened to her talk. "Is he that bad? You talked to Dad? Okay. We'll catch the next flight out then. Yeah, if you could. Thanks, Carole. See you soon. You, too."

Blaine looked at him expectantly as Kurt hung up the phone.

"It's time."

That's all Kurt had to say. Blaine had the TV off and was up off the couch in a second. Kurt laughed. "Hey, Blaine?"

"Yeah?" Blaine poked his head around the doorway from their bedroom when he was in the process of pulling off his pajama shirt and putting on an undershirt. Kurt beckoned him back to the couch, and Blaine shuffled back, finishing pulling on his undershirt as he went. Blaine slumped down next to Kurt and leaned against him.

Kurt whispered in Blaine's ear, "I just want to take a moment to relax with you. This is the last time it will truly just be us."

Blaine nodded. "I know. It's just, you told Carole we'd be on the next flight, and we've been preparing for this for a while now."

Kurt nodded. "You're right. Can I just have a minute, please?"

"Sure." Blaine burrowed further into Kurt, bringing one of Kurt's hands to his mouth and kissing each finger as well as his palm gently. "I love you," he murmured.

"Love you, too. Are you sure you're ready for this? We're ready for this?"

"Yes." Blaine shifted so he could meet Kurt's eyes. "We can do this for sure. You promised Finn that you'd look out for Noah. And this will be the best thing for him, Kurt. He needs this."

Kurt smiled, feeling a little better. "What would I do without you?"

Blaine shrugged with a grin. "Who knows? I'm awesome."

Kurt chuckled and pulled Blaine into a deep kiss, both boys feeling the need to hold one another closely for a minute before pulling back, a bit breathless, lips barely swollen.

"I'll buy plane tickets while you pack?" Blaine suggested.

"Perfect."

Blaine came back to the bedroom a few minutes later. Kurt was deep in their closet, pulling things out to pack. "Our flight is at 12:15. We need to leave in about half an hour," Blaine announced.

Kurt poked his head out of the closet. "Kay. I'm almost done. Give me ten minutes."

"Alright. I'm going to go check and-"

"Blaine, stay here," Kurt commanded from the closet.

"Why? I was jus-"

"I need you," Kurt called.

"For what?"

Kurt emerged and walked to Blaine, pressing his body against him as he kissed his lips urgently. "I need you," he repeated in a husky tone, giving his hips a small roll against Blaine's.

"Ohhhh. I'll stay right here then," Blaine whispered, voice shaky as he felt his own arousal stirring in his stomach.

Kurt kissed him again, biting Blaine's lower lip as he pulled away and walked to the closet, sashaying his hips as he went. "I'll be ready in just a minute."


	2. Chapter 2

When Noah woke again, a few hours after he arrived at Burt and Carole's, his head felt heavy, and his brain was sluggish as he tried to remember where he was and what he was doing there. As he blinked blearily at the ceiling, he became vaguely aware that there were murmuring voices somewhere in the house, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He painstakingly rolled his head to the left, and his eyes lit on the water and sandwich on the table.

Carefully, in an effort not to jolt his pounding head too much, Noah sat up. He moaned loudly as the shift in gravity intensified the ache in his noggin. He reached for the water glass and drank deeply. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd had something to drink that was alcohol free.

Noah set the glass back down, mostly empty now, and picked up the sandwich, taking a tentative nibble. Peanut butter and grape jelly. His favorite. It was then that he realized he wasn't feeling well. He was going to vomit. Slowly, Noah sat down the sandwich, eyes darting around wildly for an appropriate place to throw up. He couldn't get up. He'd never make it to the bathroom in time. His head was still pounding, and he was starting to feel dizzy.

"Noah?"

Noah whipped his head around to look in the direction of the too loud voice, moaning as his head throbbed. Then, his hands flew to his mouth.

"Noah!"

The voice was coming at him, but it was already too late. He was vomiting on the carpet, right by the couch. Each heave of his stomach was sharp and everything hurt. Noah felt a warm hand on his neck and one on his back, soothing him through the last few tremors of his body. The voice was murmuring something to him, but his head was pounding too hard for him to understand the voice. Noah shook himself a bit, frustrated at his inability to focus on anything around him, and whimpered unhappily. He needed a drink; a drink would make the pounding go away.

Two hands came into his bleary line of sight, then. One was holding a water glass, the other, two pills. Noah shook his head, a bad idea that made the throbbing worse. His tongue felt thick and his throat raw from vomiting, and he couldn't form any words. Instead, he tried to push himself up from the couch, rising on shaky legs, set on finding a drink. Burt and Carole surely had some beer their fridge or something. He took a tentative step, then another, but the blanket he'd been sleeping with tangled around his feet, and he fell. Noah's hand landed in something warm and wet, but he didn't know what it was. He wanted to move his hand, push himself up, but his limbs felt too heavy so he laid on the ground feeling helpless.

From behind him came a gasp and a "Noah!". Then, there were many hands about, helping him up, giving him water and pills and helping him to stand.

Blearily, Noah took the pills and threw them into his mouth, reaching for the water to swallow them down with. He didn't know what they were, but if they were being offered, they would probably make him feel better. After that, strong arms lifted him, carrying him back to a bed.

His head was still pounding and picking out voices was still hard, but as his eyes bean to focus, he realized that the hands that were helping him lay down and cover up under warm blankets were attached to arms and shoulders and bodies.

He was so tired. He could sleep for hours, and he closed his eyes, grateful for some relief from the throbbing. He was so tired and trying to focus his eyes took a lot of effort. As his eyes drifted shut, however, he caught a glimpse of someone and they snapped open again. The faces. He'd seen those faces before, the faces of the people who were helping him. He just couldn't remember who they were.

He blinked rapidly, forcing his eyes to focus again, and the faces slowly came back into view. One had brown hair, perfectly coiffed, with light, porcelain skin and dark, expressive, gray eyes. The other had hair that was gelled into place above a set of piercing blue eyes that complimented olive skin. His mind raced to think of who those faces belonged to. Could it be...Kurt and Blaine?

"Go to sleep," a voice whispered into his ear. "You'll feel better in a little while."

Noah let his eyes drift shut again. He was so tired, and going to sleep sounded like a good idea. Trying to think and look at the faces in front of him was too hard. He could do that later. Sleep was better. He was...just...sooooooo...tired. Noah yawned once, then was out like a light, the comfortable darkness of sleep surrounding him once again.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt and Blaine left the bedroom, letting the door click shut softly behind them as they padded back down the hallway toward Burt and Carole. They found them in the living room, cleaning up the puddle Noah had just made.

"I was going to do that," Kurt said softly.

"I know, honey, but don't worry about it. Soon enough, you'll be responsible for all the messes; you two will be taking care of him morning, noon, and night. Let Burt and me handle it for now. I don't mind."

"Alright," Kurt conceded, slipping his hand into Blaine's.

"You guys all set?" Burt asked, spraying carpet cleaner on the spot one last time.

"Mostly," Blaine replied. "We brought all the supplies with us. We just need to go and get the rental car, then we can change him and go." Blaine glanced back down the hallway as if talking about Noah would make him appear.

"Well, I can drive you to the rental place," Burt said, getting off his knees and tying the plastic garbage sack closed. "I'll just grab my keys, and then I'll take you both over there."

"Actually, I think I'd like to stay with Carole," Kurt said. "I want to be here just in case he wakes up." He glanced at Blaine, gauging his reaction.

Blaine nodded, and Burt burst out laughing. "Just like a parent already, aren't you?" he chuckled, clapping his son on the shoulder.

Carole gave Kurt a gentle smile. "I think it's a good idea; the sooner you can start with him, the better. Being here in case he wakes up is a good start."

Burt's face became a little more serious. "This is a good thing you guys are doing," he said, coming to stand between Blaine and Kurt. Clasping his arms around their shoulders, he went on, "A little unconventional? Sure. But good. Good for Noah for sure. It gives him a chance to start over, to know that people really do care about him."

Kurt gave his dad a smile and squeezed Blaine's hand. Hearing things like that made all the stress he felt about the situation seem worth it.

"Ready to get the car, Burt?" Blaine asked.

"Let's do it." Burt headed toward the kitchen to grab his keys, Blaine on his heels. "Be back soon," he called over his shoulder.

"Bye, Kurt," Blaine said with a grin before disappearing into the kitchen behind Burt.

Then, Kurt and Carole were alone. "Cup of tea, dear?" she asked him as they walked into the kitchen together.

"That would, um, that would be great, actually," Kurt stuttered, sliding into a chair at the counter. "I'm feeling pretty on edge right now. Maybe it will help to calm my nerves."

Carole set the kettle on the stove top. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not sure there's a lot to talk about. It's silly, anyway."

"You know, it's good to talk about something that's troubling you," she said, sitting down in her own chair. "And it's not silly."

"Blaine and I have talked about this a lot. I shouldn't be feeling this anxious about it."

"Second thoughts?"

"No. No! I know this is a good thing, especially for Noah, like Dad said. We're looking out for him like Finn asked us to, and I'm actually excited to see if we can help him. But, I'm afraid Noah won't feel like we're helping, and we might do more harm than good."

Carole reached across the counter to take one of Kurt's hands. "That was not silly," she told him earnestly. "Those are very real concerns, and, to tell you the truth, I've wondered them a few times myself."

Kurt looked at her, surprised. "You have?"

Carole nodded just as the kettle on the stove began to sing. Wordlessly, she rose and prepared two cups of tea, setting one steaming mug in front of Kurt before sliding into her chair with the other. She didn't talk for a few minutes as she sipped at her tea, thinking. Finally, she said, "When Burt told me the two of you had approached him about this...age play thing, I wasn't sure what to think. It seemed weird and way too big of a mess to ever help Noah. But, when I saw how excited you and Blaine were, I guess my fears just melted away, mostly. I know it's what Finn would want; he'd want someone to look out for Noah and help him find his way again. He would be proud it was you." She gave Kurt a teary smile. "Even if Noah doesn't understand it at first, it will be good for him." She reached over and gave Kurt's arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Thank you," Kurt whispered, getting emotional himself. "It means a lot to me that you would say that."

Carole didn't respond, instead sipping away at her tea again, lost in thought. Kurt did the same, mind spinning with the idea of what his life would be like when they came to visit Carole and his dad the next time.

It had been pure luck, or so they thought at the time, when both he and Blaine had been offered full-time, work-from-home hours. They'd both readily accepted, loving the fact that they would be able to line up their schedules and maximize their time together. A few days later, they received the phone call from Carole, in tears, begging them to find a way to help Noah because he was hurting again. She'd explained the drinking and the missing work, and they had felt hopeless. How were they going to help Noah when he so clearly needed more than just a friend and AA?

Quite by accident, they stumbled across an age play blog. They had been doing Google searches for a few days, trying to find a home therapy for victims of emotional abuse. Blaine was the one who clicked on the link to a blog entitled, "To Be Young Again." It was the story of a girl who had had a rough childhood. When she reached adulthood, she had a hard time making friends, and, when she did make friends, they were the wrong sort of crowd. Eventually, she got so involved with drinking and drugs that she had pushed all of her friends away except one. That one friend was the man she now called "Daddy," who had, against her will at the time, forced her into this lifestyle to prove to her that she was loved, that someone did care, and that she always had somewhere to go, even when she felt like she didn't.

Her story hit home for Blaine and Kurt, and age play quickly became the topic of more and more discussions as they read about the best ways to get someone to regress, how to set rules and consequences, and who could benefit from this type of lifestyle.

Now, on the cusp of beginning the next phase of his life as Papa to Noah, Kurt was having a hard time remembering all the positives he'd read online. His mind was swimming with all the things that could go wrong, but Carole's words of encouragement had helped to push him in the right direction. A gentle hand on his arm pulled him from his thoughts.

"Blaine's back," Carole said, rising and going toward the back door just as Blaine and Burt came up the sidewalk.

"Are you ready?" Blaine asked, striding in and giving Kurt a quick peck.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked, nodding his head toward the living room.

Blaine gave him a funny look. "Sure." Following behind his husband, he waited until Kurt had taken them almost to the hallway before asking, "Is everything okay?"

"I—I'm just worried," Kurt began, hands nervously twisting at the hem of his shirt. "Are we doing the right thing?"

"Kurt," Blaine said. He grabbed Kurt's hands, stopping the constant twisting. When this got no reaction, he tried again, a bit sharper. "Kurt!"

He raised his eyes to Blaine's.

"Everything is going to be fine. This is going to be a good thing for Noah. He _needs_ it." He grabbed Kurt's hands. "You and I are going to do this, and it might be hard, but it's going to be a really good thing."

Kurt nodded, removing his hands from Blaine's and throwing them, instead, around his husband's neck. "Thank you," he whispered into his neck. "You always know what to say."

Blaine squeezed him back until Kurt pulled away. "Ready?" he asked.

With a nod, Kurt headed down the hallway toward the bedroom they'd put Noah in earlier. Quietly, he opened the door, holding it just wide enough that he could slip through. Blaine followed closely. Producing a bag that Kurt hadn't really been aware that he had, Blaine handed it to him, and Kurt expertly slid the adult-sized onesie and diaper out of the bag.

They hadn't really planned on using diapers but had decided, after much deliberation, that they would need a few for the ride home. Taking a medicated, typically drunk man on a long car ride would be difficult all on its own. They didn't need the added difficulty of taking him to the bathroom at a rest stop. It would be much easier to change the diaper while he was asleep. And, if everything worked out the way they wanted it to, using a diaper, at least for the first little while, would make Noah's transition back to childhood that much easier.

With Blaine's help, Kurt changed Noah out of his ratty, dirty clothes into a soft footed onesie and a diaper. Then, carefully, they carried him out the back door to the waiting rental car, getting him situated in the backseat.

Burt and Carole stood on the back step as the boys finished piling all of their things into the back of the car. When they had closed the trunk, they walked down the steps, wrapping Kurt and Blaine in a group hug. There were tears in Carole's eyes when she pulled back. "Thank you," she said, looking into Kurt's then Blaine's eyes. "You're doing such a good thing for Noah." Then she pulled them back into a hug again.

"We gotta let 'em go," Burt said, wrapping his arms tightly around his wife. "They need to get Noah home." He pulled gently on her waist until she let go of the boys. "Come here," he told her.

Carole took a step back into Burt's embrace, leaning into him as Kurt and Blaine climbed into the car, smiling and blowing kisses in their direction. "Call me if you need anything," Carole called. "We love you."

"Love you, too!" Kurt called just before he closed the passenger door.

Blaine buckled his seat belt then turned to look at their sleeping charge in the back seat. "You ready?" he asked Kurt with a smile.

"Ready," Kurt said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "Let's go home."


	4. Chapter 4

They'd been driving for about three hours before Noah began to stir in the back seat. It was just little movements at first which caused Kurt to turn around and watch as Noah stretched and twisted into comfier positions. Then, he began to make little moans as he moved, clearly on the edge of waking up. "You may want to stop at a gas station soon," Kurt whispered to Blaine as he watched Noah from the corner of his eye. "Sounds like he might wake up."

Blaine nodded and steered toward the nearest exit with a gas station. He pulled the car up to a pump first, quickly filling with gas before Noah could wake up too much.

Kurt stayed in the car, keeping an eye on their boy as he wriggled in the back seat.

"Uhhh," he moaned, rolling over and rubbing at his eyes. "Wha—what's going on?" He blinked blearily at the form in the front seat. "Where am I?"

"Hi, Noah," Kurt greeted gently, glancing out at the pump to see how much longer Blaine would be. "We're in the car," he explained.

"Wh-where are we going?" he asked, realizing he was talking to Kurt. He sat up slowly. His head was pounding and the light from the damn sun hurt his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he thought he might pee his pants if he didn't use a bathroom, stat.

"Home," Kurt said nonchalantly, turning back around in his seat and digging around on the floor. "Once Daddy is done getting gas, we'll move the car, and we can change you." The name "daddy" flowed out of his mouth easily, to his surprise, and he turned back around just in time to catch Noah's confused expression.

"Home?" he asked. "I thought—and what do you mean Da—change me?" There was too much odd information for him to process, and his sentences kept coming out choppy and incomplete. Noah shook his head, trying to clear out the cobweb feeling he was having, moaning when that only made it hurt worse. He tried to focus on the most important question first. "Who the hell is "Daddy?"" he finally managed to ask.

"I am," came another voice as Blaine got back into the drivers seat. "And we don't use curse words, little boy." He turned the car back on and navigated toward the far edge of the parking lot where there were no other cars so the three of them could have a bit of privacy.

"I'm not really sure what's going on here," Puck began, looking incredulously at the two men in the front seat, "but you are not my 'daddy.'" He pointed severely at Blaine.

The two men didn't even dignify his statement with a response. "Now," Kurt said, opening his door and going to Noah's, "we need to get you changed and get some medicine in your tummy before we get back on the road. We have a long way to drive before we get home." Saying those things out loud made Kurt feel uncomfortable, but everything they'd read told them that they needed to start out like this was the most natural thing in the world. So, no matter how weird it sounded to say "tummy," he was going to power through it. This was for Noah's benefit.

Noah felt like he was trapped. Also like he had awakened in some other reality or something. Kurt and Blaine had always been a bit...well, weird, but he'd always thought they were nice dudes. Now they were talking some weird shit about Blaine being his daddy and needing to change him. He pinched himself to make sure he was awake. Damn! That hurt! He pressed himself against his seat, looking down at his feet to make sure he had shoes on in case he needed to run. What the fuck? What the hell was he wearing? Something with feet on it, like a frickin' baby. Then, he froze as he felt something squish beneath his butt. What else was he wearing? It didn't feel like any underwear he'd ever worn before. He gave an experimental butt wiggle, just to see and felt the squish again. His butt made a crinkling sound. What the fuck? What was going on here?

Blaine could see the fear and confusion on Noah's face as he opened the other door, and he hoped that Kurt could, too. "Noah," he instructed quietly. "I need you to take a deep breath and relax. Ku—Papa and I are not going to hurt you."

"We're going to take care of you," Kurt said. "You don't have to be sad or scared any more."

This was apparently not what Noah wanted to hear. "I-I need to get the fuck out of here," he said, eyes darting back and forth between the two men on either side of him, trying to figure out which one he could get past the easiest. He settled on Kurt and lunged for his door, but Kurt caught him by the arm and held on tightly. Noah had forgotten about how uncoordinated he was when he was hung over, falling out the door and nearly face-planting on the ground.

Kurt bent over, putting his mouth next to Noah's ear. "You need to get back into the car, please," he whispered firmly. "We need to talk, and we can't have you trying to run away."

Noah found himself obeying for some reason, climbing back into the car and settling into the middle seat as Kurt and Blaine climbed in on either side of him, shutting the doors.

"Listen," Blaine said. "We know you don't understand exactly what's going on, and we know you may not like this right now, but you have to trust that this is the best thing for you." He paused, waiting to be sure he had Noah's attention. Then, he continued, "We made a promise to Finn that we would look out for you, and you have proven that you can't take care of yourself. So, we are going to take care of you."

"You're coming to stay with us, and when we get home," Kurt explained, "we will talk about the rules we have for you. For now, we need you to follow directions, please."

Noah felt defeated. He didn't know what to say. It wasn't fair that they had brought up Finn. Even now, hearing the name of his late best friend made him misty-eyed and emotional. Swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, he nodded. He didn't really have a choice right now, did he? It was obvious he was incapable of running away from them right now, and he had no idea where he was, even if he could escape. Plus, he was feeling drowsy again, and his stomach was doing flip flops. He was probably going to puke again. "I think I'm going to be sick," he said, pressing his hand over his mouth.

Kurt reached into the front seat, grabbing a small trashcan with a plastic bag inside and a roll of paper towels. "Put your head between your knees," he instructed, pushing at the back of Noah's head until he had obeyed. Kurt positioned the trashcan between Noah's feet so he could upchuck if he needed to then ran a hand up and down his back soothingly.

"Stop," Noah sputtered, trying to sit up. "I don't need you to treat me like a fuckin' baby."

"Shh," Kurt hushed, pushing at his head until it was between his knees again. "Take some deep breaths until your tummy doesn't hurt." He petted the back of Noah's neck this time.

Noah tried a few more times to wiggle out of this position but to no avail. Blaine and Kurt continued to rub at his back, whispering to him and rubbing at him until he finally broke. "I feel better," he growled when the wave of nausea had finally passed. "I'm not gonna get sick."

"Okay, then," Blaine said cheerfully. "I need you to lay down on the seat back here so Papa and I can change you." Blaine could tell that both Kurt and Noah were feeling quite awkward about the whole thing, and while he wasn't comfortable either, someone had to take charge. He could pretend that everything was okay if it helped them all to relax. They were going to have to get used to it sometime, he reasoned with himself. And the sooner the better, for Noah's sake. It wasn't as thought his arrangement would be going away.

Noah looked at him skeptically. "What do you mean?" he asked. He wanted to find a way out of this, but he wasn't sure there was one.

"You need to do as you're told, please," Blaine said gently, pushing open his door and stepping out. Then, he turned and stood in the doorway, giving Noah enough room to lay down on the seat.

Cautiously, Noah did as he was told, putting his head in front of Blaine as he lay on the seat. He didn't know what they were going to do to him, but he had no way to protect himself from whatever horrible thing they were planning. He laid stiffly as he felt Kurt leaning over him, reaching for the zipper that had been snuggled beneath his chin. He held his breath as Kurt drew the zipper down and took his feet out of the onesie. It was when he heard the tape ripping that he knew what was going on, and he pitched a fit. "What the fuck?" he shouted, grabbing onto the back of the seat to pull himself into a seated position. "What the fuck did you guys do? Why am I wearing a fucking diaper? Let me out of here!" He scrambled to get away, but Blaine had latched onto him and was holding him down.

Blaine narrowly missed being slapped in the face by one of Noah's flailing hands, and he grabbed for them, trying to pin down his upper body and keep himself from being whacked.

Kurt was almost kicked in the face and quickly pinned Noah's feet down, glad that they were far enough away from everyone else that no one would be able to understand what he was yelling about. He held fast to Noah's feet and legs, making eye contact with his husband across from him. Blaine nodded at him, letting him know that they were going to have to do this the hard way. Not that they'd really expected Noah to be anything but difficult, at least at first. Quickly, Kurt reached out his hand and smacked the side of Noah's bare left calf.

"Ouch!" Noah cried, struggling harder. "What the fuck was that for?"

Kurt responded with another smack in almost the same place. "I'll stop when you stop wiggling," he told him.

Noah didn't believe him until he received another hard smack. "Okay! Okay! Just stop," he begged, stilling his limbs. "Now let me the fuck out of here!"

For that, he received another smack.

"What the-" he started, but Kurt stopped him before he could finish his sentence.

"That one was for the language," Kurt said, giving him a stern look.

Noah opened his mouth to say something else but saw Kurt's hand raise in preparation, so he stopped himself.

Kurt finished undoing the diaper while Blaine held Noah's arms above his head and whispered quietly to him. He was disappointed to find the diaper dry. He made eye contact with Blaine again, and Blaine nodded. Kurt quickly taped it back up and motioned for Blaine to continue.

"Can you sit up a little?" Blaine asked sweetly, sliding onto the seat where Noah's head had been and cradling it in his lap. "Noah," he said softly when he was situated. "Do you need to go potty?"

"Uh, I need to take a leak," Noah replied, not sure why Blaine had used the word "potty."

"Well, go ahead then," Blaine told him, as he ran a firm hand over Noah's stomach, pressing a bit.

Noah winced when Blaine's hand pushed on his full bladder. "I, uh, I'll just run in to the bathroom," he said, gritting his teeth as Blaine put more pressure on his already full bladder.

"You don't need a bathroom. Just let go, Noah," Blaine told him. "Then we'll change you and be on our way." He kept moving his hand, keeping track of Noah's reactions until he zeroed in on the spot that was making him wince.

"I'm not using the fucking diaper," Noah growled, pushing at Blaine's hands. "Just let me go to the bathroom inside."

Kurt gave him another swat on his bare thigh. "You need to use polite words," he warned, giving him the look again.

Noah was quickly learning that the look was bad news for him. "Ow!" he whined.

Blaine moved his hand back, drumming his fingers gently over Noah's bladder.

Noah put all his strength behind clenching his legs together tightly, determined not to use the diaper. He could hold out; this was nothing. Or so he thought.

However, Kurt and Blaine had a few tricks up their sleeves. Blaine continued the drumming, adding pressure every thirty seconds or so. Kurt pushed at Noah's legs until he could slip in between them, making it harder for Noah to control his muscles.

Noah could tell that he was losing the battle and gave one last attempt at keeping his dignity, batting at Blaine's hand and pushing Kurt with his feet. All this earned him was another smack, and tears began to flow as he felt his body giving in to the pressure.

Kurt looked sadly at Noah as he lay with his head in Blaine's lap, tears spilling over his cheeks. He hadn't wanted to make the boy cry. They were off to a rocky start, and while he'd known this might happen, he'd hoped that it wouldn't. He'd hoped that with Noah in an inebriated state, he'd be much more malleable, but obviously, Kurt had been wrong. "Good boy," he murmured, running a comforting hand over Noah's shin.

"Shhh," Blaine whispered to the crying boy, feeling badly about it, too. Tears were never fun for anyone, but especially not when they were confused or angry tears. He suspected they might be both this time. He combed his fingers through Noah's hair and rubbed at his shoulder. He had to keep reminding himself that the more they did this, the easier it would get. Noah was unhappy with them right now, but he'd see how much better this was with time.

"Are you going to change my fu—stupid diaper now?" Noah asked, voice wet but still angry.

"In a minute, baby," Kurt soothed. "I want to make sure you're done."

Noah sighed. This was awful. The diaper squished warm and wet every time he moved, and his head still hurt. He didn't know why these guys were treating him like some sort of a baby, but he wasn't a baby! He was an adult who could take care of himself. Sure, he hadn't been doing a great job of that recently, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable. He was. He just hadn't wanted to.

After a moment, Kurt climbed back out of the car, undoing the tapes on Noah's diaper and beginning to clean him up. He was quiet about it, leaving Blaine to continue his comforting patter. Noah's tears had almost dried up by this point, but he was still sniffling and looking miserable. Kurt wanted to have a peaceful car ride home, so he made short work of the diaper change, climbing back up onto the seat when he was finished, cradling Noah's legs in his lap. "Will you shut your door?" he asked quietly after pulling his closed.

Blaine nodded and leaned over, shutting his door with a soft slam before looking at Kurt expectantly.

"Noah, can you listen to me for a minute, sweetie?" Kurt asked, placing one of his hands gently over Noah's.

He nodded.

"Good. First of all, how are you feeling? I want you to be honest."

Noah didn't hold back. "I'm pis—angry," he said, eyeing Kurt's hand to see if he'd be in trouble for that. "Confused. Tired. And my head hurts." The last part came out as a bit of a whine, and Noah wondered where that had come from. _Must be the hangover_ , he reasoned to himself.

Kurt nodded. "I have some medicine I'll give you in a minute to make your head feel better and help you fall asleep. I'm sorry that you're angry, though." He paused, intending to go on, but Noah interrupted.

"What the hell is going on here?" He didn't care if that got him a smack. He needed to know. "Why are you treating me like some kind of baby? The last thing I remember is going out for a drive, and the next thing I know, I'm in the back of your damn car wearing a fucking diaper that you expect me to piss in!" His face was turning red, and he sat up as he raved. "I want to go home. I have fucking pools to clean, and I can't be riding around in the fucking rainbow van!"

Kurt looked at him sadly. "Noah, you don't have any pools to clean."

"Yes, I do," he spat, enraged that this was another thing they were going to fight him over. "I own a pool. Cleaning. Business. That mean's I have pools to clean."

"You lost all your pools," Kurt told him. He reached for Noah's arm, but the boy jerked out of his reach. "You've been drinking so much that you haven't been coming to work, so you lost all of your clients. You also haven't been taking care of yourself. Carole was worried about you, so she called us."

"Yeah, and what the fuck can you two do?" Noah asked, shrinking in on himself. "No one ever cared about me before. And no one's going to care now."

"Well, that's not true," Blaine said, speaking up for the first time in a while. "There are plenty of people that care about you. Carole and Burt care; that's why they called us. And Finn cared. He asked us to always make sure you are okay. And we care about you." Blaine pulled the stiff little boy toward him in a hug. "We love you, Noah, and that's why we're doing this."

"You still haven't told me what 'this' is," Noah grumped, pushing his way out of Blaine's grasp. His hug was actually kind of nice, but he didn't want to feel anything nice right now.

"This," Kurt said, using his index to guide Noah's gaze to meet his, "this is us taking care of you." He wanted to tell him that this was them giving him a chance to start over, a fresh childhood, a new way of proving that he was loved, but he knew that those were things that Noah would have to figure out on his own. So, instead he said, "You're going to come live with us. You can stay as long as you want to. We will set up some rules, and-"

"And you'll be my parents," Noah finished, clearly upset at the thought. "Because I obviously need parents to take care of me. Because I'm obviously not an adult."

"Because you're not doing okay on your own," Blaine told him firmly. "Because, like it or not, you do need someone to look out for you, to take care of you. We all do; you just happen to need it in a different way."

"Can you just leave me alone?" Noah asked, looking at the floor. He was tired, his head was pounding still, and he was pissed. All he wanted to do was be alone, take a nap, and hope to wake up from this terrible nightmare.

"We'll give you some space," Kurt reassured, rubbing his back for a moment. "We need to get back on the road so we can get home before it gets really late." He gave Noah one more affectionate pat before he and Blaine climbed out of the backseat and into the front.

Noah didn't even try to make a run for it; he didn't have the energy.

Once Blaine had pulled back out onto the road, and they were on their way again, Kurt turned around to face Noah. He held out a small pill in his hand and a small plastic cup he'd filled with water. "Here. Take this. It will make your head feel better and help you fall asleep."

Wordlessly, Noah took the pill, swallowing it down with a swig of water. He handed the cup back and laid down on the seat, turning his head toward the back of the car so he wouldn't have to look at Kurt and Blaine. He thought for a while as he lay there, arms crossed tightly over his chest. They couldn't do this. They couldn't do this to him. They couldn't hold him against his will and force him to live like a baby. It was abuse. And he hated it.

He did hate it, didn't he? What could be nice about having to live like a baby? Maybe not going to work would be nice. Maybe getting to lay around all day and watch TV and play would be nice. He had to admit, he'd thought that more than once, even before his break up with Quinn. Maybe not having to feed himself would be kind of nice. It would be almost like having a maid. He wouldn't have to cook or clean up after himself. Someone else would do that. Those things didn't make up for having to use a diaper or getting taken against his will. Noah was still trying to puzzle out exactly how he felt when he fell asleep, still hugging himself tightly.

Kurt had been watching Noah discreetly, and he gave a sigh of relief when he finally heard the soft snores from behind him. "Thank goodness he's asleep," he told Blaine quietly. "That was a...rocky start."

"It was definitely not fun," Blaine agreed. "But, we talked about what to expect, and that was certainly one of the scenarios."

"I know. I was just hoping it didn't have to be." 

"It's hard, Kurt. It's a hard adjustment."

"I know. He's just so obviously hurt and...and broken up about it. I just want him to see that we love him, that we're trying to help."

"He will," Blaine reassured, reaching over to squeeze Kurt's hand. "He'll realize all of that later. But right now, he doesn't know what to expect, and he's angry. We just need to give him some time to process."

"You're right," Kurt agreed, giving his husband a smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Spend more money at online jewelry auctions," Blaine joked.

"Oh, God, yes," Kurt agreed. "I'd have way more money to spend on them, too!"

They both got a good laugh out of that, helping to release some of the stresses of the afternoon. For a while, they just sat quietly together, listening to the hushed tones of the radio and holding hands, Kurt's thumb rubbing a gentle pattern on the inside of Blaine's thumb and finger. They didn't need to talk. They could say just as much with a gentle touch.

Eventually, Blaine did break the silence. He glanced over at his husband, taking in how beautiful he looked. "I love you," he said.

Kurt flashed him a smile, and Blaine was drawn back to the first time they'd had this exchange at their usual table at the Lima Bean. "I love you, too," Kurt said.

Then, they fell back into comfortable silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Noah slept peacefully the rest of the way back. He woke long enough for Kurt and Blaine to feed him a hamburger then went back to sleep, still refusing to look at the men in the front seat. It wasn't until he felt someone shaking him that he woke again.

"Noah. Noah, sweetie. It's time to wake up." Kurt leaned over the seat, shaking the boy gently.

"Uuuuuuun," Noah whined, swatting at his hand.

"Sit up and put your seat belt on, please," Kurt instructed. "We're in the city; we'll be home soon."

"Ugh!" Noah complained again but obeyed. After snapping his seat belt in place, he looked around wide eyed. Everything was so bright! There were lights everywhere he looked. There were street lights illuminating the street every few feet, flood lights highlighting banners on the sides of buildings, and neon signs advertising numerous dining establishments. "Woah," he breathed, his eyes as round as the moon. "You guys live _in_ the city?"

"Yep," Kurt replied, looking back at Noah fondly. "What do you think?"

"Everything is so fu—so big. And bright," he added. He glanced in Kurt's direction, wondering if his near slip would get him into trouble.

Kurt ignored it. "The city is always awake," he said, "no matter what time it is."

"You'll be able to see a lot of this from our apartment," Blaine added. "We live on the thirty-fifth floor."

"Holy sh—I mean, wow!"

Blaine chuckled, but neither he nor Kurt spoke, letting Noah take in his surroundings.

The boy pressed himself against the window, watching everything that they drove by. He sucked in a gasp of air when he saw Blaine flick on his turn signal. "Is that you're apartment building?" he asked, pointing. For a kid who'd never been out of the middle of Ohio, everything was new to him.

"No. This is the parking garage," Blaine explained, rolling down his window to show the guard his parking pass before pulling ahead. "We'll have to walk just a little way to get into the apartment building."

Noah nodded, not saying anything. Instead of lights now, he was watching the cars they drove past. There were some nice rides in this parking garage. Part of him really wanted to see if he could steal one. He'd done it once.

Blaine drove up a few floors before pulling into a parking spot marked 363. Killing the engine, he turned toward the boy in the back seat. His face was serious as he said, "We are going to get out of the car now. We have bags to carry to our apartment, and we're going to need your help. First, though, Papa and I are going to change your clothes. We don't want you to be embarrassed." He gestured toward Kurt. "Papa has some sweat pants, t-shirt, and tennis shoes for you."

Noah nodded eagerly. "Hell yeah!"

"Watch your language," Kurt reprimanded, pulling on his door handle. "Lay down," he commanded when he opened the back door. "We're going to do this quickly." He made short work of removing the footy pajamas.

Once free, Noah did an excited wiggle. "This, too?" he asked, pointing at the diaper.

"Nope," Blaine said from the open trunk. "You're going to be using those for a while, little boy. Better get used to it."

Noah didn't like that answer. He also didn't like being called 'little boy,' but he didn't say anything about it. He was happy that they were at least letting him wear normal clothes; until he could figure out how to get out of this, he would take anything they gave him.

Kurt was surprised at how compliant Noah was as he pulled on the t-shirt, sweatpants, and socks. He allowed Noah to put on his own tennis shoes. The gesture made the boy smile, so Kurt was glad that he had. Once everything was in place, Kurt allowed Noah to hop out of the car.

Blaine handed him a bag to put over his shoulder and a smaller plastic bag to carry. "You'll need to hold someone's hand," he instructed as he handed Kurt a few bags as well. "Mine or Papa's. You choose."

"I don't need to hold someone's hand," Noah whined. "I'm not-"

"This isn't a choice you get to make. You will hold someone's hand. The only thing you get to pick is whether you'll hold Papa's hand or mine." Blaine's voice was stern and commanding.

Kurt eyed his husband. He knew he was tired, but he didn't want him to scare Noah before they'd even gotten him into the apartment.

"Kurt's..." Noah mumbled, taking one of Kurt's hands in his.

"Papa," Kurt corrected gently, shifting his stuff just a bit to accommodate the hand. "Do we have everything?" he asked.

"I think so," Blaine replied. He clicked the lock button on the key fob then led the group to the elevator at the other end of the building. They climbed aboard and rode to the ground floor. Then, Blaine led them out of the parking garage and onto the sidewalk, turning to the right. "Our apartment is just up the block," he told Noah, a breath of fresh air making him feel less frazzled after a long day of travel. "We don't have far to go."

Noah nodded. He was glad he was holding Kurt's hand, he realized as they walked up the street. Even though Blaine had said the building was just a few steps away, the city suddenly seemed even bigger than it had when they'd been in the car. He was a little nervous about getting lost and clung a bit tighter to Kurt's hand.

When they finally made it into the apartment with all of their things, Blaine and Kurt both let out a sigh of relief. It had been a long day, a long weekend, and they were ready to be home and start their life with their new baby. Both men were glad that they'd already chosen to take the week off of work. It was going to take Noah a while to adjust to his new lifestyle, and it was clear after the car ride home that he could put up quite a fight.

"I'll give you a tour," Kurt told Noah after he'd locked the door behind them. "Just let me put this stuff down. Do you think you can take off your shoes? They belong on the rug by the door." He pointed to a navy and white rug with two other pairs of shoes on it laying next to a small wooden bench.

Noah nodded, feeling overwhelmed. He knew he should take his shoes off like Kurt had asked, but he was stuck still in his place, looking around himself with wonder. Kurt and Blaine's apartment was _nice_. Like, really nice. Nicer than any place he'd ever stayed before. Compared to the rat dump he'd called home back in Lima, the stinky, tiny apartment he'd been able to rent for $200 a month, this was like heaven.

He watched as Kurt rolled his suitcase down the hallway. Noah was more than a little bit nervous to be alone with Blaine. He'd never really gotten to know the kid in high school, and he'd seemed mad when they were getting out of the car. He figured it would be better to stay on Blaine's good side. "You have a nice home, Blaine," he complimented quietly.

"Thank you," Blaine said, smiling gently at Noah. He knew he'd scared him a bit in the garage. The nervousness was clearly painted on his face, and the boy's eyes kept darting toward the hallway where Kurt had gone. "It's your home now, too, sweetie. And you can call me Daddy."

Before Noah could respond, Kurt came back down the hallway. "Are you ready for your tour?" he asked.

Noah nodded, taking a few steps toward Kurt.

"Why don't you give those bags to Daddy, and I'll show you around?" Kurt suggested before Noah could get too far away from the door. "And you still haven't taken your shoes off."

Noah glanced down at his feet, embarrassed. "Sorry," he mumbled, shrugging off the bag on his shoulder and handing his two responsibilities to Blaine. He backed up toward the door and tugged his shoes off, placing them gently on the rug before padding to Kurt's side. "Sorry," he muttered again, looking at the floor.

"It's okay, honey," Kurt reassured, rubbing the boy's back. He glanced at Blaine, wondering if something had happened while he was in the bedroom, but Blaine just shrugged. It was an odd change of behavior for Noah. He'd been so feisty in the car; now, he seemed sad and defeated. Maybe it was just the long day. They should get him to bed soon. "Follow me," Papa instructed.

Noah followed him obediently down the hallway.

"This is your bedroom," Kurt said, reaching inside the first doorway on the left and flicking on a switch. A dark blue fan in the middle of the room whirred to life as the bulbs illuminated an impeccably decorated room.

"Sweet! Superheroes!" Noah cheered, racing into the room. Even though everything inside had a distinct childishness to it, he was still very excited. He'd never had a themed bedroom before, let alone one decorated as fantastically as this. And he really did love superheroes. The wall paper was a pattern of Marvel character in their fighting gear. The ceiling had little stars stuck on it, and the sheets on the bed were Batman themed. There was a stuffed Superman sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, and there was a dinosaur with a cape sitting on the bed. Noah was less than thrilled to see that the bed had railings on it. It looked like a crib, but he didn't protest, too excited by everything else in the room. There were three shelves full of all types of books on the wall next to the rocking chair, and the wall across from the bed held a giant toy box.

Noah looked around, a buzz of excitement coursing through his veins. He'd never owned so many things in his entire life. He'd hardly had any toys at all when he was a child, in fact. That's why he and Finn had become so close; Finn loved to share, and Noah couldn't resist all the awesome action figures and electronics that Finn had. Their relationship had, of course, gone much deeper than that, and his eyes pricked with tears at the thought of his late best friend. He would give almost anything to be able to play another round of Call of Duty with him.

"You can look around in here some more if you like," Kurt said quietly from his spot in the doorway, breaking Noah's train of thought. "Or, I can show you around the rest of the apartment, then you can play for a few minutes before bedtime."

Noah looked around the room, deciding that a few minutes alone might be kind of nice. "Let's finish the tour," he said, coming back to the doorway. As Kurt switched off the light, he thought of something. They must have been planning this long before he showed up, and they'd clearly put a lot of thought into the room. _Maybe they really do want me here_ , he thought as he quietly followed along behind Kurt.

"Here's the bathroom," Kurt said, gesturing to an open door on the right.

Noah peeked his head in. The sight of the toilet made him realize how badly he needed to go again. He thought momentarily about slipping into the bathroom right then; Kurt wouldn't notice until it was too late, and he could finally rid himself of this awful diaper. However, something (he wasn't sure what) stopped him from going inside. Instead, he followed Kurt further down the hallway.

"This is the office where Daddy and I will work," Kurt explained, gesturing toward a closed door. "You can go in when we're working, but right now, we have the door locked." Kurt took another few steps and flipped on the light. "This is our bedroom." He stepped aside to allow Noah to peek in.

The room was impeccable. Everything was put away, and the room was clean and organized. A beautiful navy comforter covered the large bed, there were navy curtains on the window, and Noah could see the edge of a navy bath rug in front of the shower in the master bath. The only other furniture in their bedroom was a tall wooden dresser and a shorter dresser with a mirror that housed many bottles and containers.

"You're welcome to come in here any time you need us," Kurt explained looking at Noah. "If you have a nightmare, need to talk about something, or you just want a snuggle, you're always welcome to come into bed with us."

"Daddies and Papas are excellent at scaring away monsters," Blaine said from behind them.

Noah whipped around, surprised.

"Sorry if I scared you," Blaine chuckled, coming to wrap an arm around Kurt's waist. "What did you think of your room?" he asked Noah, his eyes sparkling.

The boy couldn't help the smile that lit up his face. "It's awesome!" he exclaimed. "I love superheroes."

"We remembered. I love superheroes, too." Blaine winked at him. "I picked out most of the toys in there, and I'm kind of excited to play with them myself," he added. "Should we go check them out?"

Noah nodded excitedly.

"Go on then," Blaine encouraged. "I'll be there in a moment." When he was sure Noah was out of ear shot, he asked Kurt, "How did it go?"

"He was pretty quiet the whole time," Kurt admitted, leaning into Blaine for a moment. "I think he really does like his room, though. You should have seen his face, Blaine. He was all smiles."

Blaine grinned. "Good. If he likes his room, maybe he won't fight us as much. We can use it to our advantage."

"That makes us sound like we're trying to trick him or something," Kurt complained, smacking his husband's chest.

"Well, we might have to at first," Blaine admitted, glancing down the hallway. "Until he gets used to it."

"You're right," Kurt agreed, following his gaze. "I'll make him a sippy cup of warm milk while you guys play for a minute. We need to change his diaper and get him into bed soon though. I think he's exhausted even though he slept most of the day. This is the first time in God only knows how long that he hasn't been drunk."

"Thanks," Blaine said, planting a kiss on Kurt's cheek. "Love you."

"Love you, too," Kurt replied before heading down the hallway toward the kitchen.

When Blaine got to Noah's room, he found him in the middle of a giant circle of toys. It appeared that he'd taken nearly everything out of his toy box and was examining each item in turn, the delight in his eyes growing each time he picked up a new toy. "See anything you like," Blaine asked, finding a spot on the carpet that wasn't covered and sitting down.

"Everything is so cool!" Noah announced, glancing up at Blaine. "There are so many action figures in here! There's some really awesome cars and trucks, too. And those animals..." he gestured around him at all his toys. "I love everything!" Noah was aware that he was gushing over childrens' play things, and he felt kind of embarrassed about it. But, he reasoned, he'd never owned anything this awesome. And, even though this wasn't permanent, Noah was determined to enjoy the cool things while he was there. No sense in wasting good opportunities before he found a chance to escape.

"I'm glad you like it all," Blaine said, picking up a Spiderman action figure and manipulating it a little. "Papa went to make you some warm milk before bed. You have a few minutes to play before it's done. Then it will be time to change your diaper and get all sleepy little boys into bed."

"I'm not sleepy," Noah protested before he had the chance to think about what he was saying.

"Oh, we'll see about that. Why don't you pick out your three favorite things to play with and clean up the rest. We don't want to have a bunch of toys out when Papa gets back."

Noah pouted a bit at that. He wanted to play with everything! Considering the mountain of toys around him, he finally selected a monster truck, a Superman figure, and a small yellow car. He held them out toward Blaine for inspection.

"If those are the ones you want, you can set them on the bed while we clean up," Blaine told him, already gathering up a handful of toys.

Noah scrambled up from the floor and laid the toys on the bed. Then, he turned around, watching Blaine clean up.

"You need to help Daddy pick up," Kurt admonished from the doorway.

"And there's Papa," Daddy commented, dropping another armful of toys into the toy box. "We're almost done here."

"I think you should leave a few things for Noah to pick up," Papa said. "He was watching you."

Embarrassed, Noah knelt down and picked up the last few toys that Blaine had missed. He deposited them into the box and shut the lid, going back over to the bed and pulling down the toys he'd left out.

"I'm afraid we don't have time for toys right now, sweetie," Papa said, coming over to the bed with the warm milk. "I need you to drink this up, then we'll change your diaper, get into jammies, and go to bed."

Noah shook his head stubbornly. He wanted to play. Blaine had said he could. Besides that, he already needed to go to the bathroom, and he really didn't want to have to use the diaper. The last thing he felt like doing was drinking anything else.

"I told him he could leave out a few toys to play with," Blaine explained. "I didn't realize you'd be done with the milk so fast."

Papa thought for a moment. "How about this? If you're a good boy and do what we ask you so you can get ready for bed, then you can play for a few minutes before lights out. Deal?"

Noah considered it. He really wanted to play with the toys, and it was really nice of Kurt to try to compromise with him. But, Blaine had told him he'd be able to play before the warm milk. They were trying to treat him like a baby, and he was pretty sure there was no way in hell that a baby would even know what a compromise was. _If they want a baby, I'll be a baby_ , he thought. So, instead of putting the toys down, he continued to play as though he hadn't heard Kurt at all.

"Noah, did you hear me?" Papa asked when it was clear he was being ignored.

No answer.

"You need to put the toys away," he tried, voice firm.

Still nothing.

"Noah James Puckerman," Papa threatened. "You need to listen, or you won't like the consequences."

When there was still no response, Kurt had had enough. Handing the milk to Blaine, he leaned across the floor, jerking the toys from Noah's hands roughly.

"Hey!" Noah protested, making grabby hands at the receding toys. "Those are mine! You said I could play!" The words flowed out of him more naturally than he'd thought. _What the fuck?_

"They're mine now," Kurt replied, stuffing them into his pants pockets. "You didn't want to listen to me, so now you don't get to play at all. Sit on the bed and have your milk."

"No."

"Noah, I suggest you quit telling me that," Kurt said, standing. He was frustrated and fighting to keep his emotions under control. "Sit on your bed." His gaze was steely as he made eye contact with the obstinate little boy.

Noah felt his attitude wilt a little at that. Meekly, he stood, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the floor.

"Thank you for listening, sweetie," Blaine told him, handing over the cup of warm milk. "Drink up. It's yummy. Papa always puts a little bit of cinnamon in it." He winked at the boy when he caught his gaze.

Noah took an experimental slurp. It was really good, sweet and warm. It reminded him of Christmas a little and that made him happy.

"Do you like it?" Kurt asked.

"It's really good," he replied, drinking more deeply.

"And what do you say?" Blaine prompted, smirking a bit.

"Thanks," Noah mumbled. He didn't even care that he'd been given a sippy cup. This stuff was fuckin' delicious.

"You're welcome," Kurt replied, feeling a bit better now that Noah was obeying. He knew he tended to have a bit of a short fuse. It was something he'd need to work on.

"We'd like to talk with you for a few minutes, Noah, before bed. Okay?" Blaine asked, taking a seat on the mattress next to the boy. He felt him stiffen and patted his leg reassuringly. "It's nothing bad. We just want you to know what to expect from us." He motioned for Kurt to sit on the other side him.

Noah squirmed uncomfortably. He really needed to pee, but he didn't want to use the diaper. He also really wanted to finish drinking the milk, but every sip he took just made him need to pee more.

"Is everything okay?" Blaine asked gently, his brow furrowed in concern.

Noah wriggled, trying to find a position that didn't make him feel like he was going to pee his pants. He couldn't tell them. They'd make him use his diaper.

"Why don't you lay down for a few minutes, relax?" Blaine suggested, pushing at the boy's shoulder. He thought he knew what the problem was, and he could help.

Not wanting to risk getting in trouble and too tired to really fight, Noah did as he was told, leaning his head back against the pillow. The bed was really comfortable, and he could feel himself relax immediately. That was the wrong thing for his aching bladder, though, and he felt a small trickle leak into his diaper. "Ugh," he moaned, unhappy.

"It's okay," Blaine soothed, rubbing his tummy. "You'll feel better if you just let go."

With a whimper, Noah relaxed again, relieving the pressure. He still wasn't happy about it, but his muscles were sore, and he was exhausted.

"Good boy," Blaine crooned.

Kurt ran a hand up and down his leg gently. "We'll get you changed now," he said, rising and going to the closet. He came back with a fresh diaper and a new pair pajamas. "Let's get you out of that icky diaper," he said, tugging at Noah's sweatpants.

Throwing an arm over his face, Noah tried to pretend he wasn't there as he allowed Kurt to change him. He was glad that they weren't making him sit in it, but it was so embarrassing that he couldn't bear to look at them.

"There. All better," Kurt said, giving Noah's hip a gentle pat. "Sit up and finish your milk while we talk."

Noah was thankful when Blaine put the sippy cup back in his hand, and he inhaled a large mouthful of the sweet liquid. Pulling his knees up onto the bed, he waitied.

"Noah," Blaine began, looking at him seriously, "we want to do what's best for you." He took a deep breath. "When Finn passed away, he made us promise that we would look out for you. And you haven't been taking very good care of yourself lately." Blaine glanced at Kurt for a moment before continuing. "You've been dealing with a lot of...big problems. So, Carole—we want to help." Blaine seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say. "So, Kur—Papa and I are going to help you by giving you an opportunity to relax, to learn that it's okay to be you and that people will still love you and take care of you. I know it seems hard to do the things that we're asking you to do, but we really want to help you; this will really help you, Noah, if you let it."

"And what? I don't get a choice?" he asked.

"Well, technically, you do," Blaine explained. "We can't make you stay here, make you do this. If this is really something you don't want to do, we will get you a ticket back to Lima or wherever else you think you want to go. But we really hope that you'll give us a chance."

"What is this, exactly?" he asked. He really was curious. During the car ride, the only thing he'd wanted to do was leave, but after being here, seeing the room they'd made for him, he knew this was more than a weird fetish or kidnapping.

"Well, it's called age play," Kurt said.

"So, you want me to be a baby?"

"We want you to let yourself be as young or little as you want to be. We'll be here to take care of you, love you, and help you learn to take care of yourself the right way, if you want to. You don't ever have to leave or stop doing this if you don't want to, but you can if that's what you choose." Kurt looked him in the eyes. "What do you think?"

Noah's eyes darted back and forth between the two men who were both gazing at him intently. "You wanna be like my parents or something?"

"Sort of. Yeah." Blaine shrugged.

"We made up a list of rules and punishments," Kurt explained, pulling a few pieces of folded paper out of his pocket. "We want to talk them over with you to make sure you're okay with them."

The word 'punishments' made Noah balk. "You're going to punish me? Like beat me?" His eyes were wide with fear at the thought. Maybe this wouldn't be okay. He should get out while they were letting him.

"No," Blaine said gently. "We would never beat you. Spanking is on the list, but that is for bottoms only. We would never punch you, kick you, hit your face, or anything like that."

"We don't want to hurt you," Kurt explained. "Spankings would just be a punishment for naughty behavior." Seeing the fear in Noah's eyes, he added, "I think we're getting ahead of ourselves. Why don't we go over the rules first?"

"Good idea, Papa," Blaine said, taking the cue. "What's the first one?"

Kurt read, "Obedience. When Daddy or I ask you to do something, we want you to listen."

"Like what?" Noah wanted to know.

"Like, if we ask you to put your toys away," Kurt said, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Or when we want you to take a bath," Blaine added.

Noah nodded. That didn't seem so bad. But... "What if I don't want to?" he inquired.

"We can talk about it, but Papa and I get the final say," Blaine explained.

Noah nodded again, taking another sip of milk. Listening wouldn't be so bad. Probably.

"Number two is respect. That goes for yourself and us," Kurt said, gesturing to himself and Blaine. "That means that you can't yell and scream at us or calls us names. But you also can't say bad things about yourself."

That confused the little boy. "Why?" he asked.

"Well," Kurt started, looking to Blaine.

"We know that you had a tough time in school, during your classes and trying to make friends. Sometimes, people said things about you that weren't very nice," Blaine supplied. "They told you that you weren't very smart or that you weren't a good kid. Papa and I know that isn't true, and it makes us sad that anyone would think that about you. Including you."

Noah shrugged. "Okay." He didn't really see much point to that rule. Not to mention he really didn't like being yelled at.

"The third one is honesty," Kurt read.

"This is only going to work out if you tell us the truth, sweetie," Daddy explained. He could see that Noah's eyes were getting sleepy again, and he wanted to wrap this up quickly. "That means you have to tell us if something is making you sad or upset."

"We also need you to tell us if you're hurt or sick or scared. We want you to be happy, and talking to us is very important," Kurt added.

"What if I don't wanna talk?" Noah asked. "What if I don't want you to know?"

"We want—we can't make you talk to us," Blaine told him.

"But we want you to feel safe telling us anything," Kurt added. "We want you to trust us. If you really don't want to talk about something when we ask, we will give you some space to think about it for a little while before we ask you again. Does that work?"

"Okay," the boy agreed. He was surprised to be asked if he was okay with that.

"Lastly, rule number four." Kurt hesitated, not wanting to read this one. "No alcoholic drinks."

"E-ever?!" Noah sputtered, angry. "That's not fair!"

"Not for quite a while," Blaine replied, unphased.

"You can't do that!" Noah screeched, furious. "You can't fucking do that!"

"Watch your language," Kurt warned. "I'm adding that to the rules."

"Fine," the boy spat, too angry to protest an additional rule. "But you can't take away alcohol!" The thoughts that he'd had about staying with Kurt and Blaine, despite the weird that this was turning into were being pushed further and further back in his mind.

"Sweetie, you have an addictive personality. Alcohol isn't good for someone like that," Blaine said.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Noah jumped up from the bed and began pacing.

Kurt opened his mouth to reprimand Noah for his language again, but Blaine held up a hand. "It means that you can't have just one drink. Once you get a taste of it, you want more and more. You keep drinking until you're completely wasted. You could get alcohol poisoning or even die from doing that. We just want to keep you safe and healthy."

"I don't need you to protect me," Noah growled, throwing his hands up. "I'm an adult. Not a fuckin' baby! Besides, you guys are supposed to be in charge. Don't let me get drunk. Be the frickin' 'daddy' or whatever!"

Daddy nodded, calm. "That's true. You are an adult. You don't have to stay here. You can go if you want to. But we really hope you stay," he told the irritated boy, gesturing between himself and Kurt. "Do you want to stay, sweetie?"

Noah paused in his ranting, unsure. Did he want to stay? He was pissed at his lack of freedom, but a little part of his mind knew that Blaine was right. He was addicted to alcohol. A lot of things about staying there sounded nice. No one had ever told him that they wanted him to be happy and safe, that they cared about him. It could be nice not to have to make decisions or go to work. Maybe he could get better if someone was taking care of him. As he thought, his anger was slowly replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. Finally, he nodded, taking a seat on the floor and pulling his knees up to his chin. "I wanna stay," he whispered.

Wordlessly, Kurt and Blaine moved to sit next to him on the floor, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Good," Kurt whispered. "We want you here, Noah."

"For as long as you want to stay," Blaine added, pulling away, a huge smile on his face.

"As for punishments," Kurt said, moving on now that everything with the rules seemed to be settled, "there are things other than spanking."

"Like what?"

"Like timeouts. Mouth soaping."

"Like, you'd put soap in my mouth?" Noah asked, incredulous. That sounded nasty!

"Yes," Kurt chuckled. "For naughty language or lies."

Noah made a face of disgust. "That's gross!"

Blaine laughed at that. "Well, you're not supposed to like it. It's supposed to keep you from doing the naughty things."

"Yuck!" Noah replied.

"There's also writing lines. And grounding." Kurt moved down the list. They weren't getting anywhere, arguing about whether or not mouth soaping was gross.

Noah laughed.

"What's so funny, little boy?" Blaine inquired.

"No one ever enforces grounding!" Noah smiled widely, his first smile since they'd begun this conversation.

Kurt and Blaine glanced at one another, smirking. It seemed their Noah might be in for a surprise.

"Removal of privileges," Kurt went on. "And spanking."

Noah wrinkled his nose at that but said nothing.

"I know none of these sound like fun to you," Blaine said, "but are you okay with them? If you find out you can't handle something, we can always talk about it and change things." He paused. "That goes for the rules, too, Noah." He looked into his eyes, making sure the boy understood.

Noah hesitated before slowly nodding. "I guess."

"Last but not least," Kurt added, "safe words."

"What, like in BDSM?" Noah chuckled.

"Sort of," Blaine agreed, serious. "They're to protect you. If something is happening that scares you or makes you really uncomfortable, you can use your safe word to tell us we need to stop. Then, all of us have to speak as adults. Papa and I can use them, too, if we think something is getting too out of control."

"Oh..." Noah was quiet. He didn't know that things were that serious.

"How about the traffic light system?" Kurt suggested. "Yellow if you need to take a few minutes to calm down and red to stop completely?"

Noah thought for a moment. "Okay," he agreed finally.

"And you're sure that you want to stay?" Daddy asked. He didn't want Noah to feel like he was being forced into something, even though they had kind of kidnapped him and brought him all the way to New York. But, he also didn't want Noah to feel like they were asking him to leave. "We want you to stay with us," he clarified, "but we also want you to do what will make you happy. We care about you, Noah." He gave him his warmest smile.

Noah nodded. "I wanna stay," he said again, much quicker this time.

"Good! That's all settled then," Daddy said, grinning.

Noah barely stifled a yawn before taking another swig from his nearby sippy cup. The milk had gone cold, and he scrunched his face at the unpleasant taste.

"Now, it's time for little boys to go to bed," Papa announced, getting up from the floor and taking Noah's cup. "Would you like a story?"

Nodding, the little boy stood, too, walking to his bed.

"Let's get you tucked in," Daddy said, following him and pulling the blankets back so he could lie down. Pulling them up to his chin, Daddy leaned down and gave Noah a kiss to the forehead. "Good night, sweet boy," he said. "Be a good boy for Papa. I'll see you in the morning."

"You're not staying?" Papa asked, coming over with a book.

Blaine shook his head. "Not tonight. It's late. I want to make sure everything put away and cleaned up so we can go to bed." He kissed Kurt's cheek, taking Noah's sippy cup from him. "See you in a bit."

"Okay," Kurt smiled. He turned back to Noah, settling onto the mattress next to his hip. "Do you like The Mouse and the Motorcycle?" he asked.

Noah shrugged, yawning again. "I dunno. Never read it."

"Well, let's change that," Kurt replied, opening the book and beginning to read. He didn't even make it through the first chapter before the boy was snoring softly. Gently closing the book, Kurt pulled up the railing on Noah's bed, careful not to make too much noise. He switched on the nightlight near the foot of the bed then closed the door most of the way, leaving a small crack to let in the soft light from the hallway. Then, with one final glance into the room at their sleeping boy, he turned toward their bedroom.

"That was fast,' Blaine greeted from the bed.

Kurt nodded, slipping off his jeans. "I didn't even make it through one chapter."

"He was tired," Blaine told him. "Come here." He held out his arms for his husband. "We need to get some rest, too. These next few days are not going to be easy."

"I know," Kurt agreed, climbing into bed and snuggling into Blaine. He was silent for a moment before musing, "He's adorable, isn't he?"

"Yes. But stubborn. And cranky."

"You still think we're doing the right thing?" Kurt asked, leaning over to switch off the light.

"Definitely," Blaine reassured him, pulling him close again as they both settled down into the mattress.

"Me, too," Kurt agreed.

A few minutes later, they were asleep, too. It had been a long day, and no one was sure how their first week together was going to go. There were going to be a lot of difficult changes, and they all needed their beauty rest.


End file.
